


The Last Prince of Ishgard

by lady_summoner



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Horror, Theorycraft, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 09:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18070982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_summoner/pseuds/lady_summoner
Summary: A series of drabbles and one-shots pertaining to Ishgard's last prince and his time as the Azure Dragoon.  (Can be loosely read in conjunction with My Enemy My Ally).  Not posted in any particular order.





	1. The Last Azure and the Last Prince of Ishgard

**Author's Note:**

> (This here is a series of theorycraft drabbles and oneshots I've had pertaining to Haldrath, who was Ishgard's last prince and the first Azure Dragoon. Given his situation...he tends to come off as pretty grim-dark for me, thus the rating and the warning for this particular work. As this spawned more or less around the same time as I was working on My Enemy My Ally, there is a little bit of overlap, but not that much. The first chapter of this story is a repost--I felt it worked over here as well, as it did concern Haldrath.)
> 
> \--------------

                He was dreaming again.  This time, Estinien found himself walking through the hallways of a palace.  The stonework gave off that vaguely-Dzemael familiarity that he’d encountered when he had first entered Dravania, while the furnishings were enough to put the combined wealth of the High Houses to shame.  For all his experience dealing with Ishgard’s nobility, Estinien felt as if he were a gawky farm boy once more as he continued walking.  And yet…

                _Where is everyone?_   There were no servants, no lords, no ladies, no knights.  The very air around him seemed like a tomb.  Passing though a set of double doors, Estinien came to a halt.  His eyes widened, lips parting in surprise.

                _This is…_   The room he was in was large, almost as large as the Tribunal’s main courtroom.  Colorful banners with different heraldic designs hung from the ceiling, while beautiful tapestries and paintings adorned the walls.  At the very far wall, upon a dais was a white stone throne.   A cloth-of-gold canopy was over it, and a luxurious fur throw was tossed over the throne’s seat. 

                _Is that…_

                “This was the house of kings.”  Estinien started, head jerking to the side.  The silver-armored dragoon had appeared right next to him.  Lifting hands to helm, it removed the protective headgear.  Ashen-blond hair was pulled back into a bun, and weary violet eyes regarded Estinien.  The former Azure Dragoon could only stare in shock, for he’d seen that face only on statues and in pictures…

                “P-P-Prince Haldrath?!”  A sad smile crossed the first Azure’s lips.

                “I should have stayed.”  He walked over to a nearby table, setting the helm down.  “There had been warrior-kings before.  I only encountered Nidhogg one other time, and then I was fighting his generals.  I could have taken my father’s throne, and the lies that were perpetuated in the name of the Fury would have never happened.”  Estinien found that he couldn’t say or do anything save for continuing to stare at Haldrath’s back.  “But then given what happened to me…it’s probably a good thing I said no.  But then look at what happened…”  Estinien shook his head, recovering his wits.

                _Get it together!_   “Why…why am I seeing…no.  Why have I been dreaming this?  Dreaming you, dreaming…everything?”  He asked.

                “We have a connection.”  Haldrath answered, his tone quiet.  “The only two Azures to ever bear both of Nidhogg’s eyes.  You were lucky.  You had friends and powerful allies who saved you.  I had no one.”  He closed his eyes.  “And I have been in limbo for close to a thousand years.  My spirit lingered due to the Eye and my own sins.”

                “Your sins?”  Estinien repeated.  In the back of his mind the memory of Emilie stirred.  A bitter chuckle came from Haldrath.

                “You think you are bloodstained?”  The prince’s voice was barely a whisper, yet Estinien heard him.  “What’s on you is colored water compared to me.  I made widows, widowers, and orphans out of both dragon and man.  I killed friends, boon companions, and made others turn on their own and do the same.”  The air in the room had begun to chill, and Estinien found his breath puffing out in clouds of white mist.  His body began to shiver and Estinien wrapped his arms around himself in a desperate attempt to stay warm.  Yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Haldrath, who had bowed his head.  A dark aura was starting to envelop the prince.

                “I murdered babies.  Dragonets sleeping in their eggs, children curled up in their mothers’ wombs.  I watched men and women burn at the stake for heresy, for some I even lit the fires myself.”  Haldrath lifted one armor-clad hand, watching as the silver mail started to turn purplish-black with faint tints of red.  Estinien inhaled sharply, feeling alarm race though him.  He needed to get out, he needed to get away, this was dangerous--

                “I even murdered brothers and sisters in arms.”  The rest of Haldrath’s armor was beginning to change color.  “They could never offer a proper fight back.  I was too powerful.  They called my spear ‘Armorbreaker’.  He lifted his head and Estinien nearly screamed in horror, just barely bringing up a hand in time to clamp over his mouth.  Blood dripped down Haldrath’s cheeks as if they were tears, two bleeding holes in his face where his eyes had been.  His skin was sallow, and as Estinien watched in horror, a sickingly familiar Eye appeared in the center of the prince’s forehead, while the second materialized in his chest.

                “I swam in blood, I bathed in it, I gloried in its rain.”  Dimly Estinien could hear shouting—Heustienne.  The room around him and Haldrath begin to spin, yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the first Azure.  “When I died, they found my body on a midden.  Thrown out like so much trash…”

_Estinien!  Estinien, wake up!_

                “You think you’re a murderer?”  Estinien reared back as Haldrath suddenly appeared right in front of him, bloody hands reaching out and seizing him in a vice-like grip.  The last prince of Ishgard leaned in as if he were about to kiss the younger elezen, lips parting as he whispered into one of Estinien’s ears.

                “Compared to me, you’re just one of the lambs you used to shepherd.”           


	2. The Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Random drabble. Some theorycraft included, the idea being that possibly some proto-Ishgardians helped shelter dragons that were possibly stuck in the Coerthas region after the betrayal until they could escape to Dravenia safely, along with hiding those who didn’t want to turn on their dragon-friends.
> 
> Paien Sauveterre is a character of my own making. He’s actually Reinhardt’s ancestor [you may remember Reinhardt from Unorthodox], a Knight-Dragoon turned noble so he could help the Ishgardians who were friendly with dragons and the dragons themselves to escape the Inquisition.)
> 
> \------------------

                The wind in the upper reaches of the Western Highlands was gale-force, combined with occasional outbreaks of stinging rain.  A series of storms was passing through the region, bringing danger to the farms with their newly-sprouted plants.  Shepherds and other herders risked the weather to feed their livestock.  There were already reports of injuries from flying debris, slips and falls…

 

                But for Paien Sauveterre, the weather was perfect. 

 

                “Keep moving, keep moving!”  A dragon trundled past him, loaded down with as much boxes and bundles as it could safely carry.  Behind it was a chocobo-drawn carriage, driven by two elezen.  In the back of it were a half-dozen dragon eggs.  The precious cargo was wrapped up in cloth bundling and librarly sprinkled with fire-crystals to keep it warm.  Another dragoon took up the rear, eyes fixed on the cart.  Behind it was a small group of people, a mix of hyur and elezen.  All were loaded down with boxes, baskets, sacks-anything that could carry their worldly goods. 

                “You have balls.”  Paien turned his head.  A dragoon in blue armor had landed behind him, crossing his arms.  “Sheer, swiving, solid steel balls.”

                “What am I supposed to do?”  Paien said, gesturing.  “Leave them for the Inquisitors—or even worse, Haldrath to find?”

                “Even so!  Those eggs aren’t going to hatch for another two moons, and then it’s at least going to be a solid three before the idea of moving the dragonets can even be considered.  Four if you want to be careful with the lot!”  The dragon said.  “You really think you can keep them hidden?”

                “I-“ Paien began to speak, then trailed off.  The skin on the back of his neck was prickling.  Automatically the Hyur turned, lifting his head to gaze at the sky.  His fellow dragoon did the same, pushing up his helm.

                “You feel that?”

                “Aye.”  Paien said.  A feeling of dread was gnawing on the edge of his consciousness, the mental image of a black pool forming in his mind.  “Follow this lot.  They’re not too far from the gorge.  The vilekin presence there will mask the dragons’ scent, but their aether won’t be hidden until they reach the caves.  My wife rigged them with blocking-spells.”

                “What are you going to do?”  Paien paused, turning to look at the dragoon.

                “I’m going to see where the bastard is.”  And before his comrade could protest, Paien took several steps forward and vaulted into the air. 

 

                The dread only increased as Paien made his way down the mountain path, nimbly jumping among the tree-branches.  It was suffocating, almost overwhelming Paien with the urge to turn and flee.  To keep his spirits up, the ex-dragoon reached a hand into a pocket, withdrawing a rosary.  The feel of the beads against his skin calmed Paien somewhat, but it couldn’t keep his stomach from twisting in fear.

                He’s got to be close by if it’s this powerful.  Pausing on a tree-branch, Paien surveyed the greenery around him.  Even though he was no longer a Knight-Dragoon, he _knew_ what Haldrath’s presence, his aether felt like.  All of them—the ones who were still alive-did.  The Eyes had warped the last prince of Ishgard, twisting and corrupting his spirit.  He was more monster than man, living only for the hunt of dragons and heretics.  The tales of his cruelty had even reached Paien and his people—parents killed in front of their children, loyal servants and comrades accused of heresy, burned alive where they stood.  Dragon-dams kept alive long enough to watch their precious eggs smashed, their dragonets being impaled on spears…  With a shudder, Paien dropped to the forest floor.

                _Halone, please, please…show some mercy, Lady Fury…_

                “An odd thing to ask for, Sauveterre.”  Paien went stock still, recognizing the voice.  The weather had seemed to pause, and it seemed as if a dark gloom was enshrouding the area.  “Is everything well with you?”

                _Ohmygodsohmygodsohmygods…_   Closing his eyes, Paien swallowed.  Trying to push down the fear-or at the very most dampen it, he lifted his head.  Above him was the dark form of Haldrath, standing on the branch that he’d vacated.  Bile rising in his throat, Paien noted that the elezen wasn’t wearing his helm. 

                _Lady Fury goddess of mercy defend me in battle, protect me from the malice and snares of evil-_   Haldrath’s skin was sallow, red-black veins standing out on his neck and cheeks.  His irises were no longer violet but black, his eyes almost bloodshot.  In the center of his forehead one of the Eyes twitched and moved about independently, while its mate did the same in the middle of Haldrath’s chest.  His drachen mail was no longer silver, but a sickish looking purple-black with red accents.  The elezen tilted his head, ashen-blond hair shifting as he surveyed the Hyur.

                “Fat cat got your tongue?”

                “Yes.”  Paien got out.  _Nofearnofearnofear-_ He quickly dropped to one knee, bowing his head. “Forgive me my lord, you took me by surprise.”  A dark chuckle came from Haldrath, and noiselessly he dropped to the ground.

                “Now I know something is wrong.”  He said, voice a silken whisper.  “Paien Sauveterre, the Stormbringer, being mannerly?”  Hair hiding his face, Paien gritted his teeth.

                _Shiteshiteshiteshite-_   “My better half’s been after me to be more polite.”  It wasn’t a lie, thank the gods.  And if he could keep Haldrath distracted, it gave the caravan more time to get ahead and to the safety of the caves where please Halone, they couldn’t be sensed.  “I might as well listen to her, you know? Since I’ve got to be all respectable and proper now.”  Haldrath chuckled, throwing his head back and laughing.

                “That would be a sight to see.  Stand up, I can’t speak to the back of your head.”  Paien obeyed, fighting back a wave of nausea as he looked at Haldrath full-on.  The Azure Dragoon crossed his arms, considering Paien like how a predator would gaze at a group of its prey. 

                “But back to before.  Is everything well?”  Paien’s mind raced, and he suppressed the urge to lick his lips. 

                “I’ve…”  An idea hit him.  “One of my retainers.  He’s come down with the black-boil plague.”  Haldrath’s eyes narrowed.  “We have him quarantined along with everyone else who’s been in contact with him.  The healers say he should make it, but…”  Paien bowed his head, fixing what he hoped was an appropriate expression on his face.  “I needed some air and time to pray.”

                “Understandable.”  Haldrath inclined his head.  “I will also offer my own prayers.”

                _Holy shite he’s bloody buying it!_   “Thank you.”  Paien got out.  _Don’t look too eager-stay still.  Be still and quiet, don’t get him interested in anything…_   “What brings you here, ser?”

                “A patrol.”  Haldrath replied, shrugging.  “I thought I would divert, come this way and say hello.”  His gaze flicked over Paien, taking in the Hyur’s clothes and weaponry.  “It was a sad day when you left.  Not many have been loyal, and your skills as the Stormbringer are missed against the Dravanians.”  Paien fixed what he hoped was a bland expression on his face, shrugging.

                “My wife needed care during her pregnancy.  And I wanted my children to know me.”  He answered. 

                “Even so.  I wish that you would reconsider.” 

                _No chance in the seven hells._ “I’m out of shape and very happy where I am, ser.”  Paien said, gesturing.  “Besides.  I…”  He fell silent as Haldrath’s head suddenly turned to the side.  The former prince’s eyes narrowed, and Paien noticed with a sick lurch of his stomach that the Eyes were now looking at him.

                “…Let us speak again later, Stormbringer.”  Fear rose in Paien-only to bleed away into sheer relief as Haldrath turned to face the mountain path heading downward.  Without another word he vaulted into the air, disappearing among the tree branches.  The moment his armor vanished from sight, Paien started to gag, doubling over.  The stress and fear of the meeting all caught up with him in a rush, and he vomited violently.  It was several minutes before he could pull himself together, but even then the relief was so profound that the red-haired man dropped to his hands and knees, uncaring of the mess.

                “Halone have mercy.”  He whispered, staring down into the mix of his bodily fluids, lunch, and dirt.  “My lord…our lucky-starred prince…”  Tears rose to Paien’s eyes, silently dripping down his cheeks.

_“What happened to you?”_


	3. The Priestess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A village priestess finds herself pitted against the Azure Dragoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Even more creepy Haldrath and a ‘what if’? theorycraft situation involving little bby dragons. Please to enjoy.)
> 
> \-------------------

               The sound of the door slamming shut echoed in the small sacristy.  Bolting the latch, a small brown-haired hyuran woman turned around and pressed her back against the wood.  Soot stained her face and her robes, which were ripped and bloody in several places.  Illumination from the flames outside cast the church’s interior in an eerie light.  The woman choked back a sob.

                _Halone, please…_

 _ <Is it safe?>_ With a gasp, the woman turned her head.  A white dragonet had come up next to her, flapping its’ little wings vigorously. 

                “En Kah, what are you doing here?!”

                _< We couldn’t get out!  There was something bad at the northwestern pass!>  _

                “What?”

 _ <It smelled like Nidhogg but it wasn’t him!>_ The woman’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the dragonet.  _< It was like…Nidhogg mixed with a man, and it felt bad!>_ The dragonet paused.  _< Jeanne, are you alright? Your skin is all white!>_

                “Where are your siblings?!”  Jeanne demanded.

                _< We all went into the cubby-hole that’s behind the wardrobe->_

                “Get back there.  Get back there right now!”  For a mercy En Kah didn’t argue, turning around and flying back as fast as his little wings could take him.  Jeanne followed, her body moving on autopilot.

                _Oh Halone no no no…_   En Kah’s description could only mean one person, and the reason why her fellow villagers were being put to the slaughter as their homes burned.  As the dragonet squeezed back in with his siblings, several pairs of bright eyes looked up at Jeanne.  They were wide with fear, and the smell of urine and feces was rather potent.

                “It’ll be alright, little ones.”  How Jeanne’s voice was steady, she didn’t know.  “You just have to hide in here for a little while, I’m going to find a way out for all of us.”

                _< You’ll come back?!>_ A dragonet trilled. 

                “I promise I’ll come back.”  Gently Jeanne closed the false back, and then pushed the wardrobe back in place.  Turning around, she squared her shoulders and marched back into the church’s main space.

 _Stay calm. Stay calm.  Stay calm._   If she broke down now-if she lost it, it would be her death and the death of the hatchlings.  They all needed to escape first.  Then she’d have a breakdown after.

                _Get your cloak.  Head to the back entrance.  See what’s out there._   Jeanne stopped at a pew.  She reached for the gray wool that had been tossed over its back—

                “Where are the children?”  The question-and the voice made Jeanne scream.  Cloak dropping from nerveless fingers, she spun about to survey her surroundings.  Several yalms from her a figure lurked in the shadows.  The illumination from the fires outside allowed Jeanne to see that it was wearing drachen-armor, though she couldn’t make out the colors.

                “I-I beg your pardon?”

                “The children.”  The voice was male.  Soft-spoken, it was nonetheless authoritative.  “Where are they?”

                “There…there’s no children here.”  Jeanne got out.  Unable to help herself, she took a step back.  The aura that was coming from the figure made her want to turn and run away screaming.  It was hate, it was a void, it was a sheer lack of emotion, of empathy. 

                “I can smell them.”  Jeanne’s eyes widened.  “I smell them.  I smell your lies, and I smell your fear.”  Armor clinked as the figure began to walk towards Jeanne, coming into view.  The hyuran woman recoiled in horror, breath catching in her throat.

                _Ohmygodsohmygodsohmygods…_   Black and red armor, with hints of purple.  A face she’d seen in portraits, on statues.  Bloodshot and shadowed violet eyes, veins of red and black on pale cheeks.  Two dragon’s eyes…one in the center of a forehead, one in the middle of a chest, with both staring right at her.

                _Oh Halone they were right, they were right…_

                “I will ask you one last time.  Where are the children?”  Jeanne jerked out of her stupor, stumbling back.

                “I-I won’t tell you!”  She cried.  The former prince of Ishgard sighed, closing his eyes.

                “As you wish then.”  Suddenly his form became a blur.  One moment he was there, the next he wasn’t.  Before she could react, Jeanne was reeling from a backhanded blow to the face.  The force sent her flying though the air, landing with a hard crash near the baptismal font.  The impact knocked the wind from Jeanne, and she drew in a strangled breath.  Pain made her nerves scream--her face, from beneath her right armpit and all the way down to her right hip.  As Jeanne tried to regain her bearings, a pair of drachen-armor greaves appeared next to her.  Haldrath bent down, wrapping his long and slender fingers around her neck.  Lifting her, he began to squeeze.  Jeanne wheezed.  Short, ugly gasps escaped her, and she tried desperately to claw at Haldrath’s face.

                _No…no…_   The prince tilted his head.  The look he was giving Jeanne was remote, almost clinically disinterested.  Struggling feebly, Jeanne tried once again to lash out at the prince’s face.  But it was to no avail, and her hands swung back.  Her vision was beginning to blur, and she felt lightheaded…

                _I…I can’t…I can’t fail…_   The fingers of her right hand grazed the cold marble of the baptismal font, then touched something long and metallic.  With her last ounce of strength Jeanne seized it, bringing it up to bear.  Too late she recognized what she’d seized, an aspergillum.  But hot on the heels of that realization…

                “Aaaaaaahhhh!!!”  Suddenly Jeanne found herself free, dropping like a bag of popatoes onto the church floor.  Greedily she dragged in lungfuls of air.  As her vision cleared, Jeanne looked towards Haldrath.  The former prince was snarling in pain, hands to his face.  The smell of roasted meat filled the air, along with the sharp aethereal presence that was Halonic holy magic.

                _…Wait…what…?_   Dumbfounded, her injuries forgotten, Jeanne stared.  The aspergillum lay in-between her and Haldrath, still glistening with holy water.  As she watched, Haldrath snarled.

                “You bitch!”  His hands fell from his face.  The areas where the holy water had hit were fast-developing burn-blisters.  The dragon eyes in his forehead and chest were spasming wildly, their gaze darting side to side, up and down--   The prince’s face was contorted in pained rage.

_Did the holy water-_

                _Again!_   A female voice barked in her ear.  _Quickly, before he recovers his wits!!_   Without thinking, Jeanne scrambled to her feet.  The baptismal font was a short marble pillar with a silver bowl nestled into the top.  It had been designed that way so that the bowl could easily be removed and cleaned.  Digging her fingernails between the bowl’s lip and stone for purchase, Jeanne managed to lift it up to get a slight fingerhold, and then to grip the lip entirely.

                “Yaaahhh!!”  She screamed, flinging the bowl and its contents at Haldrath.  The elezen couldn’t move fast enough, the blessed water hitting him full on in the chest and face.  The bloodcurdling scream that followed made Jeanne drop the bowl, doubling to clap her hands over her ears.  No longer was there a smell of roasted meat—now it was the stink of burned flesh.  The surge of holy magic was enough to trigger an ache in her teeth and bones.  The screaming continued, lifting higher and higher in pitch to now a distorted wail.  The void-like presence began to retreat, and Jeanne opened her eyes.  Straightening, she looked ahead in stunned disbelief.

                _He’s…gone._   The church’s main doors had been thrown wide open.  Faintly she could still hear the horrible wailing, but the former prince was gone, and she was the only one in the church.  Jeanne stared at the doors.  Then her gaze landed to the discarded bowl, and the water spots on the floor.  Her thoughts were reeling, not daring to even approach what had just happened…what she had just done.

                _I…I_   Men’s shouts snapped Jeanne out of her daze.  _The dragonets!_ Haldrath was gone, and if he was gone, this was their chance for them to escape!  Fresh adrenaline giving her strength, Jeanne turned on a heel and ran back towards the room.


End file.
